Secrets
by NewtPevensie
Summary: Travelling through France with the Howling Commandos, Steve notices that Bucky is acting strangely. Why is that? And why is it only when Steve has to radio Peggy? Set mid-way through CA:TFA. Stucky fluff.


**I've been meaning to write this for ages - enjoy!**

* * *

Christmas, 1941

'Damn you, Buck! Ouch!'

Steve dropped his shield, rubbing his leg ruefully, glaring at his friend. Bucky sat across the snowy clearing, smirking.

'What'd I tell you, Stevie? That thing's barely bigger than a dinner plate, and in case you hadn't noticed, you _aren't_ anymore. So unless you stop being an idiot, you're gonna get shot.' He tossed another rock from one hand to the other. 'Ready?'

Still grumbling, but accepting that Bucky had a point, Steve slung his shield over his arm again. Bucky flicked the rock at him, wicked fast and with perfect aim. This time, Steve managed to duck behind the shield while simultaneously jumping, so his legs were covered as well. He was rewarded with Bucky's deep laugh.

'Well, ya look like a turtle, curled up behind your shell, but I think you're getting it.'

'Thanks,' Steve deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Bucky might be annoying, but he was only looking out for him. The last time he hadn't helped with one of Steve's schemes, Steve had managed to enlist in the army and agree to being experimented on to 'help the war effort.' Since then, Bucky had accepted there was no talking him out of his ideas – like fighting his way through war-torn Europe with nothing but a shield to protect him – so instead tried to help with every eventuality.

Which in this case included pelting him with rocks, to make him practise not getting shot.

'Can we go back to the others now? I think we should take another crack at that machine.'

'Scared I'll keep hitting you, huh, punk?' Bucky teased.

'Nah – I'm scared your voice'll become too tempting a target for some throwing practice of my own,' Steve replied, smirking.

Bucky laughed again – one of Steve's favourite sounds – then got up, slinging his arm over Steve's shoulders. 'Whatever you say, Stevie.'

.

For four months, the Howling Commandos had been travelling through Nazi territory, searching out Hydra strongholds. Every time they found one, they disabled as many weapons and machines as they could, taking the ones they couldn't trash with them to deal with later. Whenever they collected a few, Steve would call a rest – a day or two where they wouldn't travel, wouldn't fight, just figured out how to make the weapon unusable.

After a few attempts, using machine guns, small artillery fire, and even a few grenades, they'd realised that the most effective weapon was in fact Steve's shield. The vibranium either sliced pieces off the machine until it was ineffective, or eventually ripped a hole in it big enough that they could get inside and cut wires, mess up electrics, that sort of thing.

It was also an excuse for another one of Bucky's training exercises.

Barnes examined the machine, analysing its weak points. It looked a bit like a tank, but without the hatch on top that let the driver in. They'd realised it was controlled remotely – they had sliced off the guns and anything else that could be used to hurt them if Hydra regained control of it. That was why they needed to get inside: if they could disable it fully, they wouldn't have to worry about a sneak Hydra attack from within their camp.

There was a decent-sized dent in its side, from where they'd been attacking it the day before, and a few sharp edges from where the shield had already sliced off appendages. Bucky stared at it thoughtfully, walking around it to see it from every possible angle. suddenly he smiled.

'Here.' He tapped a panel near the dented one. 'Aim for this one. It's slightly different from the others – it must be the maintenance panel. If we can get in –'

'We can finish the job,' Steve finished for him. He hefted his shield. 'Let's go.'

Bucky backed up quickly. Dum Dum and Jacques gathered round to watch, but stayed well back. They'd learned from experience that too far away was much better than too close when it came to this game.

Steve eyed the panel Bucky had pointed out, then threw his shield. It bounced right off, but had made a dent in the metal wall of the machine. As it ricocheted, Steve bent his knees, bracing himself for the impact as it flew back to him. He caught it much more easily than when Bucky had first come up with this game – the first few weeks, the shield kept crashing into him, knocking him back on his ass. Now, he used the shield's momentum to turn himself around and throw it again, faster than before.

This time, it didn't come flying back in a straight line; the slight spin he'd put on it sent it hurtling towards Bucky, who caught it perfectly.

'Show-off,' Steve grumbled.

Bucky grinned. He flipped the shield neatly, then threw it back at the panel. It ricocheted off again back to Steve. This time, however, it was too fast for even Steve to catch. He ducked as the shield hurtled over his head and lodged in a tree.

He swore under his breath, then jogged over to pull it out.

Bucky's grin had faded. This was happening more and more recently – ever since Steve had rescued him from the Hydra base in Italy, he hadn't known his own strength. Sometimes it was helpful, like when Dum Dum had been trapped under a fallen tree a month ago, and together he and Steve had lifted it right off him. But more often, it was scary – those experiments Zola had done on him were still affecting him, making him stronger, like a delayed version of the serum Erskine gave Steve.

Steve was worried about him. Bucky hadn't said anything, but sometimes Steve would catch him staring into space, face tightened as if in pain. Other times he wouldn't say anything at all, which was really worrying, given that he was a smartass who loved to have the last word. On those days, Steve would hang around him, giving him the chance to talk if he wanted, but not pushing him.

This was not one of those days.

'Hey, Steve! You waiting for Hydra to catch up to us to throw that thing again or what?' Bucky's voice jolted him back to the present. Steve yanked the shield out of the tree, then threw it flat, straight at Bucky.

He barely flinched, plucking it out of the air as easily as if it were a real frisbee, not twelve pounds of metal. 'When are you gonna learn, Stevie, that I know you too well for that? Every time I've annoyed you for the last – what, ten? Twelve? – years, you've tried to throw something at me. And every time, I've caught it. D'you really think that was gonna change just because you're some bigshot superhero now?' His tone was light, but there was something else there too, something Steve couldn't quite place – somewhere between hurt and mild exasperation, but tinged with fondness.

'How about you try this one for size, Buck: shut the hell up.'

'Okay, okay,' Dum Dum interjected. 'Why don't you throw that thing back at the damn machine, rather than razzing each other?'

Steve grinned, though it felt strangely stiff. He was still worried about Bucky, but since he didn't seem to want to talk about it, there wasn't much he could do. Instead, he threw the shield, letting his frustration leak into his muscles. The shield whizzed across the clearing, flying straight and true, until it stopped dead, wedged between the panels of the machine.

He jogged over. Bucky joined him, and together they managed to prise the panel open, using the shield as a lever. Metal screeched, unwilling to move, but their combined strength was too much for it. the panel burst off, revealing a gap big enough for Jim to squeeze through.

The Commandos cheered – with that taken care of, they could relax properly for the next few hours. Tomorrow they'd be on the move, but yesterday they'd stumbled on a small abandoned village with a well-stocked pub. The Hydra base they'd raided was only a few kilometres away, which explained why it was empty. They'd taken a load of alcohol, leaving a bit of money, but nothing else – it was almost Christmas, and they'd been travelling for months. They deserved a break.

And now they didn't have to worry about a Hydra machine randomly coming back to life, they could actually have one.

.

Several hours later, Steve stumbled back to his tent. Not because he was drunk – the serum had heightened his metabolism to the point where alcohol had very little effect on him – but because in the dark, it was hard to see the tree roots and fallen branches in the way.

It had been a good night. They'd all had a lot to drink, and they'd been able to pretend there wasn't a war, even if just for tonight. Remembering it was almost Christmas, Dum Dum had started singing Christmas carols, and everyone had joined in, Jacques adding random harmonies in French. Only Bucky had still seemed out of sorts, though he'd downed several measures of Scotch, along with numerous beers.

Steve didn't know what to make of Bucky's sudden mood swings. He had always been fairly easy-going, but something had changed. It wasn't just the war, or even being captured and experimented on. Whenever Steve radioed England to report to Peggy and her boss, he always found somewhere else to be, even though the rest of the Commandos tended to gather round, just to hear someone else's voice. The last time he'd used his compass to check their direction, he'd seen Bucky's face shut down, all vestiges of emotion vanishing. He'd thought it was weird, but didn't think more about it, because Gabe had asked him something, and by the time he'd answered, Bucky had disappeared off somewhere.

He'd ask him in the morning, he promised himself. But tonight, it was too cold to do much of anything other than sleep.

Steve finally reached his tent. He didn't bother taking off his fatigues – just his boots and belt, then he lay down, covering himself with his two blankets. He ran a higher temperature than most people now, but even so, tonight was bitterly cold, with snow falling and an icy wind that left you gasping for breath. Throughout the night, the Commandos kept tackling him in hugs, just to steal a bit of his warmth. Steve was happy to oblige – he didn't regret taking the serum, but he was glad that at least one thing that didn't involve his strength had come from it.

Snuggled under the covers, curled in a ball, Steve was almost asleep when he heard something outside his tent. He sat up unwillingly – it was probably just one of the others staggering back, but there was always the possibility of a wild animal, or maybe an unlucky Nazi patrol.

'Hey, Stevie,' the entity hissed.

Steve relaxed. Bucky.

'What is it, jerk? I was almost asleep before your big feet woke me up.'

Bucky unzipped the tent flap and let himself in, somewhat more unsteady than usual, though not too much, given the amount of alcohol he must have drunk.

'I'm cold,' he whined.

'That's what happens if you leave the tent open,' Steve pointed out. Bucky made a face but zipped the tent up again. He shuddered, one hand creeping to his cheekbone. It was healed from his ordeal in Italy, but it still ached in the cold. He looked at Steve so pathetically he couldn't say no. Not that there was much he would say 'no' to for Bucky in the first place.

'Fine, Buck. Stay.'

Bucky grinned, then lay down next to him, stealing some of the blanket for himself.

This was semi-normal, at least. When they lived together in Brooklyn, sometimes they couldn't afford much heating on top of rent, so they'd often shared a bed, to share each other's warmth. But then, they'd always stuck to their own side of the bed. Steve had always appreciated the distance. It reminded him that he shouldn't think the things he wanted to think about.

But tonight, Bucky was barely an inch away. They were both tall and broad, and the tent was small. The fact that they both fitted at all was surprising. Steve was very aware of the body lying next to him, and forced himself to think of something else: their plans for tomorrow, their next target, how long each march would take with all the snow falling, anything other than Bucky's arm next to his.

The tent was silent for a while, with only the whistle of the wind whirling outside to disturb the quiet.

'I've always wanted to do this,' Bucky said, sounding half-asleep.

Steve turned his head to look at him. 'Do what, Buck?'

'Lie this close to you.'

Steve started. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. He scrambled for words, but nothing came out. Bucky didn't seem to notice.

'I just wanted to keep you safe. Away from all this. Then I go and get drafted, and two months later, you're in France with this girl, saving me, all big and strong and _Captain America_,' he sneered, 'and it feels like little Stevie's all gone away.'

Steve was reeling, but his brain caught on one word. 'Wait – _drafted_?'

'Oh, shit.' Bucky's tone made it clear he hadn't meant for that piece of information to slip out.

'Bucky…'

'I signed up. Definitely. No drafting here.'

'Buck.'

'I got drafted.'

'Bucky…' Steve was lost for words. He'd always thought he'd signed up, that the promises of adventure and seeing the world had got to him. But that didn't make sense. Bucky had never wanted adventure. He'd been happy in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn, where the scariest things were their landlord and the worry of Steve's asthma acting up. Then one day, he'd announced he was off to France. He'd picked up his uniform, with that cocky smile and arrogant tilt of his head proclaiming that this was his choice, that he'd be good at it, that if everyone else was going, so would he.

Steve had thought he was the most handsome soldier he'd ever seen.

'All I ever wanted was to be like you.' Bucky turned his head to look at him as the words spilled out of him. 'Strong and confident and not scared of anything. So when Erskine offered me the serum, making me strong and giving me the chance to do something useful… I couldn't say no.'

Bucky was still staring at him. 'I never wanted you to be anything other than yourself.' He looked away. 'Then Peggy came along. I didn't expect it to hurt so much, but it did. Watching you pine over her, this doll you've known all of two months… I've known you twelve years. Couldn't you see I loved you?'

Steve froze. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. 'You… love me?'

Bucky's face grew cold. 'Apparently I was wrong.' He turned over, away from Steve, his shoulders hunched.

'Bucky. Hey, Buck.' Steve pushed himself up, leaning over so his head was just over Bucky's shoulder, his heart hammering. 'I love you, too.'

Bucky tensed, shifting so he was looking up at Steve's earnest face. 'What?'

'I love you.'

Bucky stared at him, blue eyes wide in shock. Then he lurched upwards, kissing Steve impulsively. Steve kissed him back, exploring his mouth that tasted of cold and whisky and _Bucky_.

Eventually, Steve broke away. He already missed the feeling of Bucky's lips on his, his strong hands on his back. 'You're not going to remember this tomorrow, Buck.'

Bucky gazed at him seriously. 'I hope I do.'

.

The next morning, as the Commandos moved out towards their next target, the pair said nothing, but walked a little closer than usual, shoulders bumping into each other. Once or twice, their hands brushed, a silent reassurance that last night hadn't been a dream.

And around them, the Howling Commandos smiled.

To the end of the line, indeed.

* * *

**Just... Stucky. Mutual pining. That's all I have to say. **

**Love, **

**NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


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